


Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

by Pyth (Peahen)



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-24
Updated: 2008-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peahen/pseuds/Pyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to 2x12. Slightly racy, in a very Logan-POV sort of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Next time, if there is a next time, I will know enough to argue for 'wasting it on a quickie'.

We can have dinner whenever we want, if we're careful. We can talk for hours whenever we want. Whenever we want, we can smile at each other, laugh with each other. I can read her my poetry, and she can pretend not to laugh for my sake. All these things, we can do at any time, though I'll admit it sometimes seems otherwise.

These things we can't have whenever we want: we can't hold hands. We can't kiss. We can't whisper in one another's ears. We can't sit beside one another on the couch with our shoulders just touching. I can't put my arm around her, or run my fingers through her hair; she can't kiss my cheek and lean her forehead against mine, trying to hide a smile. (And it wouldn't work anyways; not, I presume, that she minds.)

So next time-- if, as I said, there is a next time (I am starting to doubt there will be)-- I'll put forward my case for that perfect quickie I so jokingly mentioned. Because the alternative is the true waste: spending time we could use for the rare things, the forbidden things, in pursuing what we can already do. There will be time for talk and laughter and food and all those necessary decorations on the surface of love. There is always time. But when we're given a chance to consummate all that... whiling it away in pursuit of what we already have is sheerest foolishness. It's not just tempting Fate; it's outright taunting it. I imagine hurling schoolyard insults at a robed and hooded arbiter of destiny, and laugh, but it's really not that funny. We should realize that we're not living a fairy tale, and if we want our happily ever after, we're going to need to make it ourselves.

With that in mind: next time, if there is a next time, I will take her in my arms and kiss her. I will hold her face in my hands, look into those beautiful brown eyes, and try to find the words to tell her just how much I love her. I will pick her up and carry her to bed, and count it the best thing this exoskeleton has ever done for me.

And I think, once I have explained this to her properly-- if I can get through the whole train of thought out loud without blushing, which I doubt-- she'll come around to my definition of waste.


End file.
